In the Company of Wolves
by AgentBathory
Summary: A mute and socially awkward Ravenclaw girl finds Tom Riddle's diary after Ginny has dropped it.
1. Prologue

A/N: Random idea. We'll see how this goes. Feel free to send me your own ideas and things you'd like to see within the story.

* * *

Maria Kane had always sought comfort in the pages of books rather than the arms of people. So it came as no surprise to her when she found that she was falling in love with one.

It was just before her seventh year at Hogwarts when Maria was visiting Diagon Alley for some last minute shopping. She casually browsed shelves of books, running her fingers lovingly across the spines and welcoming the familiar dust like an old friend. While all books were inherently valuable, she found secondhand texts to be the most rewarding. They were cheaper, smelled of vanilla, and often had useful notes scribbled in the margins.

Maria dragged her feet slowly as she walked alongside the bookshelves, but paused when her boots hit something. She looked down and saw a lone book bound in black leather. She crouched to pick it up and flipped through the blank yellowed pages of what appeared to be a journal. It seemed to have no place there considering she was in the transfiguration section of the shop. Maria had never kept a journal, but she was always looking for omens and signals from the universe, so she hypothesized that maybe this was one of her beloved omens and dropped the book into her shopping bag. A little while later she paid for her substantial stack of books and promptly forgot about the diary among them.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've gained several story followers just from the extremely short prologue so I hope you guys will enjoy the first chapter. I'm sorry for the length. I don't have a very good attention span so it takes me several hours to write a couple pages and I stop based on where I feel it's appropriate rather than word count.**

**Like I said before. Send ideas and I'll see if I can work them into the story. :3**

* * *

It was a purple day for Maria. She applied her periwinkle lipstick, tucked sprigs of lavender in her bun, and wore a simple amethyst necklace under her school robes. After 6 years of this the student and staff population had become accustomed to her "color days" and mostly left her alone. It had been hard in her first year when people would taunt her and, being mute, she was unable to defend herself verbally. After a few well-placed and warranted jinxes, the more aggressive students left her alone. Now when they came crawling to her for assistance with their homework she charged them double.

Maria sat next to Sylvia Jackson in her seventh year potions class. Sylvia was one of the nicer students, but Maria did not consider her a close friend. The feeling was mutual on Sylvia's side.

"G'morning Maria," Sylvia gave her a small smile and a sidelong glance, "What's purple for?"

Maria held up her trusty portable chalkboard and letters magically formed as quickly as she thought the answer.

**It's for tranquility**_._

"Oh." Sylvia gave a tight smile and turned back to the front of the class.

Maria sighed imperceptibly and resisted rolling her eyes. People always asked and then looked confused. Surely a seventh year in advanced classes should understand magical correspondences, but alas it was not so. She ran her nails along the grooves in her dark wooden desk. Years of graffiti were explored until Professor Snape swept into the room with his usual swirl of robes. He had to know that it lost its imposing effect after a few years in his class. She suspected he did it more out of habit than anything.

Professor Snape brusquely explained the potion they'd be making that day while writing the instructions on his own board. Once he was finished Sylvia and Maria immediately set to work in companionable silence. Potions was Maria's favorite subject. The basic theory behind it was the same as her magical correspondences. The subtle flow of magic from the witch or wizard during its creation is what makes a potion a potion, rather than a stew of seemingly random ingredients. And it was the colors, stones, and herbs that acted as a conduit for her magic and goals. Even muggles did it with their good luck charms.

Professor Snape had spent the period prowling and intimidating students. Now he stood before Maria and Sylvia's table looking down at them with his nose raised in disdain. He inspected their completed potion. It was the perfect shade of baby pink and was smoking just the right amount. "Adequate." He sneered and then swept away to inspect other victims. The two girls shared a smile and then turned to their own devices. Their potion was perfect and they knew it.

* * *

Lunch came quickly and Maria sat alone at an edge of the Ravenclaw table, reading and eating chocolate. Snickering from her left distracted her from the book and she inspected two third year boys snickering and nodding at a petite blonde girl across from them. What was her name? Oh right, Luna. She wore radish earrings and appeared to be completely oblivious to her mocking housemates. Her blue eyes stared into space dazedly and as Maria scanned the table she saw that other students were behaving in a similar manner to the boys. A brave second year flicked some peas at her with a spoon and tried to contain his laughter when she snapped out of her daze. Luna looked around for a moment and then went back to concentrating on nothing ostensible.

Well this wouldn't do at all. If there was one thing Maria couldn't stand it was a bully. She was painfully reminded of her first year when it had been incessant. Between being mute, muggleborn, and her odd habits it was absolutely impossible to escape ridicule. She observed Luna a little longer and decided against hexing the mocking students for now. Luna appeared unfazed by the negative attention and Maria didn't want her to feel like she was being pitied. Maria was all too familiar with that feeling. She took a deep breath and meditated on her tranquility for a moment before returning to her book. Lunch would be over soon.

* * *

It was on this purple day, when Maria was so focused on her peace of mind, that she set into motion a series of events that would cause the most stressful period of her life. Of course she was completely unaware of this fact until it was too late. Isn't that how these things always work?

She threw her bookbag and chalkboard onto her bed and directly turned to pull Delilah out of her tank. Maria set her toad in the crook between her shoulder and neck and Delilah croaked contentedly in her right ear. She then pulled a large canvas bag out of her trunk and carefully dumped about a dozen books onto her bed. Now that October had begun she'd already read through all of her textbooks for the year and felt that she could devote some time to fiction.

In alphabetical order Maria began to sort the books. And for each section of letters she sorted the books from tallest to shortest. She soon discovered that one of the books was not a work of fiction, but instead the forgotten diary from several months ago. It would make a good dream journal she supposed and set it on the nightstand beside her bed so that she could reach for it in the night if she felt the need to. Then she selected the first book in the first stack and set the rest of the stacks under her bed. Each group still separated alphabetically and stacked in decreasing size so they looked like obtuse triangles.

Delilah was then placed on the far right side of Maria's pillow and settled in for silent story time with her best friend.

* * *

In the morning Maria woke with a strange dream about butterflies replaying in her head. She continued to contemplate it as she prepared herself for breakfast. She painted her lips dark blue and braided a shimmering blue ribbon into her long brown hair before putting it up in her usual bun. The butterflies had been an iridescent blue. It wasn't till she was gently placing Delilah in her tank that Maria saw the black dream journal sitting innocuously on her bedside table. She carried it with her all the way to breakfast and made sure to focus on the dream the entire way. She sat down in her usual spot and flipped the journal open hoping to jot down her thoughts before she forgot the dream that was already fading.

**October 1, 1992**

Maria paused to collect her thoughts, but the dream flitted out of her mind and beyond her grasp when her eyes widened taking in the new line of script that was definitely not hers. It was angular, but retained an air of elegance. It looked like calligraphy.

_That's the year, is it?_

She pinched her thigh and when she was sure that she was awake she replied with a shaking hand.

**Yes it is. Who is it that's asking?**

_My name is Tom Riddle. What's yours?_

Tom Riddle. The name did not ring a single bell. He definitely did not go to Hogwarts. At least not since she had been there.

**My name is Maria Kane. Did you go to Hogwarts?**

_Yes._

**When did you go to Hogwarts?**

_I started school in 1938._


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. c:

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**October 8, 1992**

**Tom, are you familiar with the muggle's Principle of Mass Conservation?**

_I can deduce a general idea from the name, but please expound._

**According to muggle scientists, matter can neither be created nor destroyed, but only changes form. Do you know of elements Tom?**

_Yes. I did have muggle schooling as a child._

**Interesting. I'll have to question you further on that at a later time. Now animals and humans are basically made of the same elemental components. So when wizards become an animal then one can assume that magic simply rearranges those basic components and conserves the matter. The conundrum here is where the excess matter goes since something like a mouse has less mass than a wizard of any size.**

_I can see that you've given this a lot of thought Maria. But magic and primitive muggle science are not meant to work in synch._

**Well I don't see why not. We have our own fundamental laws of magic just as muggles have basic physical laws. I'm sure with a proper understanding they could work together. I mean even the muggle science of chemistry is alchemy without magic. And Arithmancy is centered around mathematics, of which muggles have always had a better grasp.**

_I see your point dear, but I do not concede it. Muggles and magic are not meant to mix._

* * *

**October 12, 1992**

_Back again today?_

**I thought you'd be a nice distraction from studying.**

_Studying, studying, always studying. Why are you not gossiping with other girls or sneaking off to see some besotted boy? Isn't that what teenagers normally do?_

**I suppose some teenagers participate in similar activities. I wouldn't really know.**

_What do you mean? Surely the other Ravenclaws respect and admire such an intelligent girl?_

**No, not really. I don't have any friends. Besides Delilah of course.**

_Well that simply isn't true._

**How would you know Tom? You're a book.**

_Because I am your friend Maria._


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the consistent reviews Rudolphx and Cassie-D. They really helped motivate me to update. As I've said before, feel free to suggest scenes you'd like to see in the future. :3

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Conversations with Tom became an everyday occurrence, sometimes multiple conversations throughout the day. _His _diary, as Maria had come to think of it, was always within her robe pocket with Delilah nestled in next to him on occasion. He provided her with a sense of comfort that no one, not even her father, could've given her. Not only was he her first true friend, but he was obviously superior to those made of flesh. He was always with her, always available, always understanding, and one of the few "people" she had met that could not only tolerate her textual ramblings, but seemed to enjoy them. A few students had attempted to befriend her over the years, but had quickly lost interest when communication had so many limitations. Now her only form of direct communication was the only way to interact with her friend. How serendipitous.

The only blight on such a perfect friendship was Tom's odd aversion to muggles; which would obviously be troubling to a muggleborn. He never openly expressed anti-muggle sentiments, but often rejected her praise of their science or medicine, insisting that science and magic should, or could, never coexist. In an attempt to avoid confrontation, of which she had never been fond, Maria began avoiding those subjects and stuck to simpler topics like school, books, and esoteric magic.

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**October 16, 1992**

**Did you ever have to do presentations when you were in school?**

_Once or twice, why?_

**Professor McGonagall has assigned us topics we must present in front of the class. This is entirely unprecedented! No professor has ever done this to me! I'm sure she'll accommodate my needs, but it's still going to be a dis-**

Her hasty scribbling was cut off by Tom's neat penmanship.

_Why should this worry you dear? In fact, you need to worry about lowering your vocabulary standards if you're to present to a general class' population._

Maria shivered at the sight of his endearment. He had begun slipping them in casually the way old women called everyone 'hun' or 'sweetie'.

**Because Tom, I can't speak. What am I to do, spend the entire period silently staring at them while they read my notes?**

There was a long pause before his response magically appeared.

_You cannot speak?_

**No, I'm mute.**

_Then how have you managed six years of magical education?_

**I can do nonverbal magic.**

_You can do nonverbal magic? And you're proficient with it?_

**Well I would say so since I've had to use it my whole life. I'm also decent at Occlumency. Anything can be accomplished with enough mental discipline.**

_Why can't you speak?_

**I don't know. Apparently I could speak a little as a child, but when my mother died I just stopped. Muggle doctors claim it's some sort of psychological block. I'm **_choosing_** this according to them. Which makes a lot of bloody sense, I just **_love_** ostracizing myself.**

_This is a lot to think about Maria._

Panic shot through her whole being. This is exactly why she had never mentioned it.

_Maybe you should go to sleep now._

**No Tom, I don't see why we can't continue speaking.**

Please don't go. Please don't go. Her head felt foggy and she fought not to turn into her pillow.

_I really think you should go to bed._

The fog was too strong. She slept.

* * *

Maria rummaged through old Hogwarts yearbooks. Since the night before, she had become determined to learn as much about Tom Riddle as she could, and was now searching for the yearbooks from 1938 to 1945. The way he had coerced her into sleeping disturbed her on a level she had never experienced. She didn't want to believe it was malicious. He hadn't hurt her.

Oh goodness, this is red flag behavior. She explored the dusty shelves with renewed vigor. Nothing seemed to be in order.

Finally she found the 1943-1944 yearbook. She rifled through the pages until she found the sixth years and then searched for the R's.

Riddle, Tom

There was faded sepia toned picture of a handsome boy above the name. He had dark hair curling over his forehead and an angular face with dark eyes. He wore a small smile with his eyebrows upraised a fraction. The overall impression was one of haughtiness.

Well he is quite handsome by societal standards.

On the right side of the page there was a larger vertical picture of Tom holding a trophy and shaking hands with what she assumed was the headmaster of the time. Below it Maria read, "Tom Riddle receives trophy for Special Services to the School." She took a more thorough look at the picture. Tom wore the same arrogant look on his face and a prefect badge glinted on his perfectly pressed robes. There was a row of professors in the background, but only one was identifiable to her. Headmaster, or Professor at that time, Dumbledore.

* * *

"Enter Miss Kane."

Maria shyly ducked into the Headmaster's office and tried not to stare at the various baubles and trinkets he had spread around the room. She had managed to avoid trouble and prefect status for 6.17 years and in turn managed to avoid this office. Headmaster Dumbledore motioned to the cushioned seat across from his desk and she happily took it.

"Now what have I done to deserve this rare visit?" His eyes crinkled as he smiled kindly at her. She held up her chalkboard and refrained from pointing out it was her only visit.

_I have a few questions sir._

He nodded for her to continue.

**I was looking through the trophy case and it contains every non-quidditch related trophy since the school's founding. Students seem to earn them rarely. Even Harry Potter didn't after last year's incident. But there is a trophy missing sir.**

The twinkle in the old wizard's eyes dimmed a bit. "And who is it that's missing? I'd like to remedy the situation promptly."

**It's a boy from 1943. His name was Tom Riddle.**

As the last word appeared on the board Maria looked for any change in his expression, but he still held the same serene smile. His clasped hands may have tensed, but she may have been seeing things as well.

"Now how did you come to find this discrepancy dear?" She almost cringed at the same term Tom had used for her the night before, but held her composure. It was frighteningly easy to lie when one didn't need to speak.

**I've read every academic and fiction-based book in the library sir. I thought I might study the school itself and looked into the yearbooks. Mr. Riddle caught my attention because I had already studied the trophies.**

In actuality the reverse had occurred.

"I see," the Headmaster stood and offered her an opened container from the corner of his desk, "Candy?" Maria took one from the jar and nodded her head in thanks. "Ah yes, Tom Riddle caught a lot of people's attention during his time at school. Especially the young ladies." He gave her a sly wink that left her a little perplexed. "So much potential…" He seemed wistful and even melancholy for a moment, but quickly recovered, "The boy never amounted to much and he died long ago."

**How did he die sir? **

And how is he still speaking to me?

"It was a series of tragic circumstances that led to his inevitable death. That is all I can say." He stood and in a flourish of brightly colored robes took a step toward the door, "Now if you'll excuse me I have a meeting to get to." Maria stood and walked towards the door as well. He held it open for her and as she passed through the Headmaster stopped her, "I know that curious mind of yours dear. You will find nothing else on the boy and I suggest that you leave his spirit in peace."

How could she leave him in peace when she spoke to him every day?


End file.
